


What If...

by indigojodie1220



Category: Marvel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3437924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigojodie1220/pseuds/indigojodie1220
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unlikely past between Rachel Summers and Loki of Asgard could alter the course of the Battle for New York - and Asgard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Marvelverse fanfiction in the flavor of "What If..." comics. Doesn't necessarily encompass a particular time-frame, although it was conceived around the scene from the Avengers movie where Thor lamely offers up that Loki is adopted, by way of explanation of his bad behavior. It jumps around comic timelines, but definitely starts in X-Men #205. This is my first fanfiction, and I'm extremely nervous about posting! I hope you like it. I hope you'll be kind - but I hope you'll have some constructive criticism to offer too. Thanks for reading!

Prologue

 

Then

Five Years Ago

 

One

“The only way to stop me, Logan, is to _**kill** _ me!”

 

 _SNIKT_!

 

Two

Rachel lay in a pool of her own blood. Logan was gone, and there was no sign of the huntress, Selene. Each breath was agony. She had been about to kill Selene when Logan caught up to them  - no, she had been about to _murder_ her. As Logan had so poignantly pointed out, there was a difference. She told him the only way he was going to stop her was if he killed her - and he did, without the slightest hesitation.

 

Rachel had been high with the power she was pouring out to hold and subdue Selene, and feeling not unwholly self-righteous in her judgement to kill the huntress. It was the same power Rachel’s mother had tapped into years ago, a power so primal and awesome it corrupted her mother, and ultimately lead to her undoing. Dormant and forgotten, it slowly insinuated itself on Rachel during her formative years, letting her get just a taste when she needed it most. As an adult, she used it sparingly, lest she end up like her mother - but all the stops were pulled out now - Selene was going to pay.

 

The adamantium claws that lay sheathed in his forearms came out with a familiar SNIKT, piercing her through the heart and lungs. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it did. Logan had been her friend and mentor all her life - there was even speculation that he might be more, as much as her mother emphatically denied it - she knew exactly what kind of man he was. She knew he had killed before - it'd been why she asked for his help in the first place. He’d admonished her for her choice, said it wasn’t worthy of her, or her mother’s sacrifice in light of the terrible acts the power had caused her to perform.

 

“I don’t care!” Rachel had practically snarled at him. And so, he did what he did best.

 

He turned his back to her, and his head drooped. He stooped slightly, his hands on his knees, as a great heaving sob wracked his shoulders - once, twice. He shuddered, straightened, and wiped at his face with the back of his hand. With another familiar _SNIKT_ , he retracted his claws, and walked away.

 

Maybe Logan knew, deep down, that Rachel wasn’t really dead, maybe he didn’t;  either way, he’d kept on walking. Likewise, maybe he knew Selene had caught up with her escaped prey, and was even now draining the poor mans life essence. In her weakened state, Rachel felt it all, connected as she had become to Selene. The "meal" had revitalized the psychic vampire, the mans fear strengthening her considerable psionic talent. Rachel knew Selene had felt her take her meal; knew she was aware, too, what the man named Logan had done; knew that Rachel was weak and vulnerable. And, Rachel also knew, Selene was still hungry.

 

Rachel watched Logan go as she struggled to hold herself together. It had been an autonomic reaction, the way her telekinesis sealed the wounds closed, even as Logan’s claws made them. It was another thing entirely, keeping her blood flowing, and air pumping into her lungs. It took all her concentration, which left her defenseless against the intrusion of an entire city’s worth of thoughts, and the knowledge that Selene was coming back for her.

  
  


_“-gotta walk the dog.” “...muties everywhere..”_

_“Why can’t they just-” “And then I said - “_

_“...hate these shoes…” “- just need one more fix!”_

_“-doesn’t like me?” “...registration act best thing since - “_

 

Just when she thought she would go mad - _madder_? - from the onslaught of random thoughts and emotions, she caught the faint sound of music coming from somewhere off in the distance. A cursory glance around told her it was coming from the abandoned Delacorte theatre. She knew, rationally, that couldn’t be right - the Delacorte had been closed for years - but there it was, soft at first, then steadily growing louder, like an orchestra tuning its instruments. A part of her was aware that her mind must be playing tricks on her, that she was probably slipping out of consciousness, but there was something about the music - it was as if it was calling her, and she only wanted to dance.

 

With a great effort, she managed to get herself upright, back leaning heavily against a gnarled old elm tree. Looking in the direction of the theatre, the music grew ever louder, the call ever harder, and now she could just make out lights.The music made her feel - not happy, no that wasn’t quite it, but it made her _feel_ \- she wanted to skip and turn, pirouette and dance and be... _free_. Pushing away from the tree and clutching tightly at the wounds in her chest, she lurched unsteadily forward. The gate to the Delcorte was locked and chained - nothing a little telekinetic “jimmy” couldn’t fix, though.

 

The gate swung open, and it was as if the theatre doors themselves were flung wide. She was awash in pastel lights, the hypnotic music filling her ears, her head - her heart. Her chest heaved as though it would burst with joy, her face strained painfully against her broad grin. She watched as the old abandoned theatre transformed before her eyes into some otherworldly construct, it’s angles all wrong, a complete affront to her Earthly sensibilities. At that moment, though, she couldn’t care less. Strange alien writing re-wrote itself above the arched double doorway - it read simply: _The Body Shoppe_.

 

An ethereal figure with pale silvery hair shimmered into view under the sign, arms extended in welcome. She smiled at Rachel, but there was something off about that smile - if Rachel had been more in control of her senses, more aware, she might have said it was almost predatory. The womans body swayed to the music, robes flowing to and fro, revealing a lithe form underneath. Too many arms beckoned Rachel forward from within the folds of the robe, but she was too caught up in the dance to notice. Rachel closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting the soft light wash over her face. Chest thrust forward, arms back, she could no longer ignore the pull as she stepped toward the great unknown with wild abandon.

  
  


Three

A hand shot out then, seemingly from nowhere, grabbing Rachel by the arm and pulling her back from the brink. It was a man, but like no man Rachel had ever seen before. He swept her up in his arms, and danced her in a waltz, away from the Delacorte, and the hypnotic music. As he spun and turned her, she caught images of her life flashing all around them: the one that had been, the one that was, and the one that could be - all her potential, in the turn and pirouette of the dance. She caught sight of the  Body Shoppe fading in the distance, and the otherworldly woman - there was no mistaking this time the hungry, angry face, and the gleaming weapons in the too-many hands.

 

Dazed and confused, Rachel looked up into the face of her would-be rescuer. He was incredibly - _painfully_ \- handsome: fair skin, dark hair, eyes as green and vibrant as her own. He radiated with a golden light - it _hurt_ to look at him directly ,  the way he glowed - and as they danced and twirled, the golden lights gave way to a myriad of colors - a veritable _rainbow_ of color.

 

“What is this?!” she whispered, eyes wide and wild in disbelief and fear.

 

“ _Magic_ ,” he leaned in close and whispered into her ear. The rainbow lights engulfed them, and as Rachel Sommers took her last step on the planet Earth, she looked from the fading image of the six-armed woman, to the man who had rescued her from her clutches, and couldn’t shake the feeling she had just jumped out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

 

Three and a half

The huntress Selene doubled back to where she had left Rachel and the man called Logan - “ _Man? More animal, than man_ ,” she thought to herself. Both were long gone. She dropped to one knee and dipped a finger into the congealing pool of blood at the base of the old elm - cold. Selene had been hunting a long time, and knew what signs to look for when tracking wounded prey - a footprint here, a broken twig there - and followed the signs from the tree to the abandoned theatre. The gate was chained and locked, and nothing marred the overgrowth of several years of neglect. She must have missed something, for it was clear no one had come this way.

 

Four

Rachel awoke with a start, a tight pain in her chest. She’d had the same dream every morning for as long as she could remember. She rubbed absently at the three small nodules across her bosom, a remnant from a long ago injury she only vaguely recalled. Some mornings, the dream drove her out of bed, flustered and confused, and on the brink of tears - others, she would simply roll over and go back to sleep, her brow furrowed as she tried to sort it out.

 

One thing always remained constant though: each time she awoke, scared and confused, Loki would be there, his silver tongue whispering soft words of comfort in her ear to make her forget. He would fold her in his arms and lead her back to bed, sometimes to sleep, other times to make love, and she would forget that she ever had any other life but the one she led on Asgard.

 

 

 


	2. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story takes place "now", "now" being The Avengers movie. It hints at the past, and foreshadows the future, just a little. Relationships are revealed, characters are developed, and I try to be funny. A very thinned out version of this exact story was the very first draft, written almost a year ago, and I couldn't stop thinking about it, which is what eventually lead to this fleshed out version.

Now

 

One

The beat thrummed loudly; multi-colored lights flashed on the dance floor, barely illuminating the dark club and the dancers on the crowded dance floor. The three young women lost themselves in the music, the crowd, and each other. They were all of them young and attractive, each in her own way. The brown-haired girl had a wholesome, “girl next door” look, while the tall leggy blonde was all “midwest-farmers-daughter”. The third girl had a more natural, unaffected beauty, with pale hair and skin, a small frame, and delicate bones.

 

They were enjoying a much needed night off, and “Girls Night Out” at the club was exactly what the doctor ordered. They had dressed to kill in trendy hair-did’s, micro-minis, and too-high heels. They weren’t trying to impress anyone but themselves, and it felt wonderful to be the young women they were, if only for a night. They had indulged in a killer cocktail of mixed drinks, designer drugs, and techno-trance music. They swayed and moved with the other dancers in a frenzied rhythm until they were glistening with sweat, and breathing hard with the effort.

 

The man in the black suit and dark glasses stood just at the edge of the dance floor, intently watching the girl’s dance, an appreciative eye settling on the brown-haired girl. He tapped his foot to the beat, and glanced at his watch. The leggy blonde noticed him first. They made eye contact – well, as much as you can when someone is wearing dark glasses inside an already dark club. He nodded imperceptibly to her. She snorted and sagged her shoulders in a gesture of disappointment as she nudged the pale girl, who, looking around and spotted the man as well. She smiled broadly, and waved. The blonde reached past the middle girl, and tapped the brown-haired girl on the shoulder – once, twice - on the third not-so-gentle tap, that was actually more of a push, the girl stopped dancing and turned around. Following her friends gaze, she too spotted the man, and mimicking her friend’s disappointed gesture, she “tch’d” and frowned at him. The man genuinely looked wounded, and pantomimed a shot to the heart. He picked up a thermos off the table behind him, and  shook it at the girls.

 

The three of them made their way through the crowded bodies, the brown-haired girl taking the lead and stepping up immediately. She said, quite emphatically, “No!” She was just a slip of a thing, but the man knew she could lay him out in less than a second if she had to.

 

“Hi Kate,” the man said, smiling. “You look lovely tonite.”  He kissed her on the cheek, and offered up the thermos. Her shoulders sagged again and she pouted at him.

 

“Phiiiiiillll,” she whined at him. “It’s our night off,” she said, stamping her foot impetuously.

 

“I know, and I’m sorry, but it’s important. You know I wouldn’t interrupt “ _Girls Night_ ” unless it was important.” The girl called Kate stuck her bottom lip out, started to say something, but Phil held up the thermos one more time and said, “It’s Columbian Roast. Extra-dark, and extra-strong!” He smiled hopefully.

 

Kate scowled at him, “Gimme,” she said, taking the container from him. “I just want you to know,” she said, unscrewing the top and smelling the contents, “I took two E-tabs tonite, and was totally about to start sexty-texting you.”

 

The other girls snickered. Phil blushed slightly, and politely ushered them out of the club into the steaming heat, unique to summer nights in New York City. A nondescript black van sat parked in front of the club. Curious on-lookers waiting behind red velvet ropes stared, as the small man in the plain black suit escorted the three women inside.

 

They drove a short distance to an abandoned parking lot, where a mid-sized quinjet sat stationery, as if it belonged there. Phil drove the van right into the back of the jet, the ramp closing behind it. He got out and opened the side door. Kate was sipping at her coffee, looking surly. The other two girls slouched in their seats, their heads leaning together - the blonde was softly snoring. Kate slapped at the blonde girls thigh.

 

“Wake up Paige,” she grumbled.

 

Paige woke up with a snort, and shook the girl next to her. In a southern drawl, she mumbled, “Wake up Ray, we’re…,” looking around, she asked, “Where are we?”

 

“We’re in a S.H.I.E.L.D Globemaster, probably en route to the Helicarrier,” Kate supplied, looking to Phil for confirmation. He nodded, removing his jacket and handing it to Kate.

 

Paige stood up, and shook out her limbs. Taking a deep breath, she dug her fingers into her scalp, and with a strong tug, proceeded to rip her skin off.

 

No matter how many times Phil saw it, he would never get used to Paige’s genetic mutation to “husk” away old skins, revealing a fresh new form beneath. In this instance, she was “husking” away the nights impurities – drinks, drugs, and who-knew-what else. He had seen her “husk” into more lethal forms as well, like when she turned her skin into a highly corrosive acid!

 

Kate handed the now naked Paige Phil’s jacket – a side effect of “husking”, Paige hadn’t quite figured out how to synthesize clothes yet. “Husking” always left her naked.

 

“Ah liked that dress too,” she mumbled, examining the Paige-shaped husk of old skin before slipping into the jacket. It just barely fit – Phil Coulson was not a large man. She stepped out of the van, and looked around at the cargo hold.

 

Behind them, the last girl, the one Paige had called “Ray”, was stirring as well. She rubbed at her face, and asked, “What’s up? Hey Phil,” she smiled at the man.

 

“Hi Rachel,” Phil said. “Official S.H.I.E.L.D business, I’m afraid. I’m gonna need you to sober up,” he nodded in Kate’s direction, “Kitty, too, if you can,” he said. Kate shot him a murderous glance over her coffee. “Sorry, Kate,” he said, recalling how she had lectured him that she wasn’t a kid anymore, especially considering she was dating a man more than 20 years her senior.

 

Like Paige - and Kate, too - Rachel was a mutant - homo superior. She happened to  be both telepathic and telekinetic, like her mother before her – but that wasn’t what made her a mutant; those abilities were merely genetic traits she inherited at birth. Her specific mutation allowed her to manipulate fourth dimensional energy, something she had only a tenuous control over, and which largely served her passively. Luckily for Phil, it was her psionic abilities he was interested in.  She quickly sobered up, as Phil had requested, telepathically accelerating the course of the drugs and alcohol in both hers and Kate’s systems.

 

Kate sighed, and massaged her temples, “Ugh, couldn’t you do anything about the headache?” Rachel shrugged apologetically. They both got down out of the van and followed Phil to the main passenger bay. There were eight seats, including the pilot and co-pilot seats. A red-haired woman piloted the ship.

 

“Heya Nat,” Kate waved jovially, making her way up the row to the co-pilot seat. To her surprise, it was occupied – by a giant of a man with golden blond hair, wearing a long red cape! He turned around in his seat to greet the new-comers.

 

“ _Son of a_ -“, Kate spat, stopping in her tracks. “What’s _he_ doing here?!” she turned and shot Phil an incredulous glance. The blonde man stood up, arms raised in a gesture of peace, and walked down the aisle toward Kate. She barely came up to his chest, and he probably had a couple hundred pounds on her (at least), but she reached out and grabbed him by his belt before he could say anything. Immediately, the large weapon he carried at his side dropped to the floor with a resounding thud, as Kate _phased_ the man, employing her mutant ability to make solid objects intangible.

 

“ _Mjolnir_!” the man bellowed, and grabbed at the fallen weapon, his hand passing right through it. Phased as he was, he could neither touch Kate, nor escape from her grasp.

 

Meanwhile, at the first hint of hostility,the pilot - the woman Kate had addressed as Nat - reached for her weapon, and trained it on Kate. “Let him go Kate,” she warned evenly.

 

Glancing over her shoulder, Kate rolled her eyes at Nat as she placed her other hand palm out on the tip of the gun, "Puhlease," she taunted, “Fire away."

 

The cabin was suddenly filled with the sound of ripping and tearing, not unlike the shucking of corn, as Paige shed her skin, again, revealing a sparkling diamond form underneath. She put herself between Rachel and the rest of the ship’s occupants.

 

Phil ran up the aisle, weapon drawn, shifting his aim between Kate and Nat, ordering both of them to stand down – only Rachel remained where she was standing.

 

“Hello Thor,” she said mildly, peeking around Paige.

  
  


Two

Everyone turned to look at Rachel. Nat and Phil looked confused. Kate and Paige remained at the ready, awaiting instruction from Rachel. The man called Thor also looked momentarily confused, then bore a pained expression on his face, arms dropping meekly to his side. “Rachel?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

 

“Let him go, Kate. It’s alright,” Rachel assured her friend. “Please, everyone, it’s alright,” she said, gently laying a hand on Paige’s shoulder as she stepped around her.

 

Kate hesitated a moment. She huffed disgustedly, but did as she was told. “You’re in my seat,” she said hotly, standing on her tip-toes, trying to get in the mans face. She walked right through him, and sat down in the co-pilot’s chair with a huff. She folded her arms across her chest, crossed her legs, and stared seethingly straight ahead.

 

Nat slowly lowered her weapon, looking to Phil for further instruction. He reiterated for Nat to stand down. He glanced up at Thor’s massive form,  whose eyes were still fixed on Rachel. “So I guess there’s no need for introductions, then?” he asked, looking around.

 

“I – we  –”, Thor swallowed hard, and when he next spoke, his voice was low and soft, “we thought you were dead, Rachel,” Thor finally said, Mjolnir all but forgotten on the floor at his side. He walked toward Rachel, but Paige got in between them.

 

“That’s far enough,” Paige drawled.  “Where’s your brother, Thor?” she asked accusingly, diamond eyes darting around.

 

“He is here –“ Thor began slowly, and Paige punched him right in the nose. Thor's head whipped back - he sniffed, and wiped at his nose. His fingers came away red. It didn’t hurt the big man, just caught him off guard.

 

“Ah told you, if either one of y’all evah came knockin’ at our door again, Ah’d beat the tar outta ya!” she poked him in the chest with a sparkingly diamond finger, her anger rising. “ _You have no right_ –“ she started, but Rachel cut her off.

 

“ _Is_ Loki here, Thor?” Rachel asked, looking around the small cabin. As soon as his name passed her lips, she felt the faintest psionic whisper in the back of her mind, and reprimanded herself: three years - for _three years_ she never once uttered his name, until now. Loki had an uncanny ability to know when his name was spoken, and if the mood struck him, he might just appear.  

 

Phil spoke up then. “He’s in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, actually, on the Helicarrier. Kate had it right, we were en route, until … all this,” he gestured to everyone. “Thor suspects he’s up to something. We were hoping you could get it out of him, Rachel,” Phil continued, waving his hand around his head, indicating her telepathic abilities. Rachel smiled weakly at the gesture. “I had no idea you all knew each other…” he trailed off, looking to Kate for further explanation.

 

“It’s not my story to tell, sweetie,” she said, turning herself around in the seat.

 

“It’s a pretty long story, actually,” Rachel said, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose - she was actively trying to hide her particular psionic signature, to make her invisible to prying eyes - Loki’s eyes, if he was looking. “And if it’s all the same to you, I only want to tell it once. We’re going to need to make another stop, though,” she said quietly. She patted Thor gently on one hugely muscled arm. Leaning down, she picked up Mjolnir and gave it back to the giant, who could never quite believe that this mere mortal girl - this _child_ \- was _Worthy_ , no matter how many times he saw it.

 

Three

They boarded the Helicarrier sometime around 1am, after a quick detour to the mansion that housed the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning in Salem Center. Rachel was adamant, and insisted that she would not be able to get the information from Loki that Phil so desperately needed without making this stop. The silence aboard the quinjet was deafening when she returned with her parcel. Thor's face paled, and Phil could only stare in a combination of awe and horror.  The look on Rachel's face brooked no questions.

 

Once aboard the ship, Kate and Paige were whisked off with Rachel’s parcel to a private control room. Paige, whose diamond form was flaking off by now – she could only hold a form for about an hour – was fitted with a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. It suited her, and Rachel felt a keen sense of foreshadowing as she watched her friend saunter down the long corridor. Kate and Rachel didn’t think to ask for a change of clothes, and were still dressed for the club. Rachel’s feet were starting to ache, but she thought that coupled with the sexy attire, it might serve her to stay dressed as she was for just a little longer.

 

 _Agent_ Phil Coulson, as he was known on the Helicarrier, led Rachel to the command center, along with Nat - Natasha, a.k.a. The Black Widow, and Thor, where introductions were made to perhaps the Earth’s mightiest heroes: Steve Rogers, a.k.a Captain America, Dr. Bruce Banner, and Tony Stark – a.k.a. Iron Man. Rachel already knew Director Nick Fury, thanks to the clandestine relationship the Xavier Institute had with S.H.I.E.L.D., in the form of informational, and technological exchange. They all sat at a large table, a video display at it’s center. She glanced down at the monitor, and her heart sank. There, in a seemingly nondescript, plastic cell, sat Loki. She recognized that cell - S.H.I.E.L.D. had borrowed the extraterrestrial technology from the Xavier Institute to build it. Not only was the material virtually indestructible, but it also had psionic inhibitor technology built into it that dampened mutagenic traits and abilities. It was designed to stop rogue mutants from hurting themselves, or others - only, Loki wasn’t a mutant.

  
  
  


She shook her head, and looked up at Director Fury, “I won’t see him like that,” she said.

 

“He’s dangerous, Rachel,” Fury said.

 

“I don’t think we should be focusing on Loki,” Dr. Banner interjected, pacing around the table, “That guys brain is a bag full of cats – you can smell crazy on him.” Rachel flinched when Banner said his name, even though she was looking right at Loki in the inhibitor cell. Old habits died hard.

 

“Have care how you speak,” Thor menaced, “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard – and he is my brother.”

 

“He killed 80 people in 2 days,” Nat reported dryly.

 

“He’s ...adopted…?” Thor said.

 

Rachel raised an eyebrow at the exchange. “He won’t hurt me,” she said, shaking her head emphatically, taking care not to say his name again. “We have… history.”

 

Thor crossed his arms over his chest, nodding his head in agreement, his brow furrowed. “Whatever drives Loki down this path, it has nothing to do with Rachel. She will be safe with him,” he said.

 

Four

Nick Fury and no less than eight armed Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. escorted Loki from his cell – two in front, two in back, and two on each side – through the maze of hallways on the Helicarrier. Loki was bound at the wrists, and wore a mask over his jaw that prevented him from speaking, and was chained from wrist to foot. Dr. Banner, at work in the lab tailored for his specific research needs, watched the procession pass. He could feel Loki’s eyes boring into him, hungrily.

 

Fury posted guards outside the small interrogation chamber before opening the door, and entering with the prisoner. Loki wasn’t sure what to expect from Fury but was surprised to catch sight of a young woman in the room, her low cut dress baring her back to them.She was leaning over a display console, her too short dress showing off long legs that ended in impossibly high heeled shoes. She was a stunning specimen, for a human, and exactly to Loki’s tastes. Loki rolled his eyes at Fury: he had figured on this - that Fury would appeal to his humanity, to his base needs as a man. After whatever tortures he concocted, he would present her to him, and she would be as a balm - a friend - and he would cooperate. “ _Pathetic_ ,” Loki thought.

 

Rachel was momentarily distracted by a display monitor, and didn’t notice the men come in at first. She quickly turned the monitor off, and turned to face the men, steeling herself for the anticipated tumult of emotions. It had been three years since they’d last seen each other, and no matter how it had ended, what they had had been real. It was only because she had known Loki so intimately that she was able to perceive the subtle change in his expression – from surprise, to anguish, relief, and then finally, anger. She came to recognize anger the most readily in the days before their parting.

 

Rachel’s sudden and wholly unexpected appearance had caught Loki off guard, threw his entire game plan off, and like Thor’s reaction earlier, he too wrestled with a range of emotions at the sight of her. Loki was quite literally stunned. Rachel looked with horror at Loki’s bound wrists, and gag; the way the chains connecting his wrists and feet made him stoop slightly.

 

“Is all that really necessary?” she asked Fury in disgust, not waiting for his answer. She telekinetically unbound the shackles and gag, punctuated with a quick scissoring motion of her fingers. They dropped to the floor with a clink and a thud, and Loki rubbed at his wrists, ran his hand around his jaw. Straightening up to his full height, and rolling his shoulders, he smiled down fiercely at Fury.

 

Fury rolled his eyes – _eye_ – and just looked at Rachel. “What the hell Rachel?” he said exasperated, “That was not part of the plan!”

 

Rachel and Loki stared at each other, ignoring Nick Fury altogether. “I’m sorry Director Fury,” Rachel said, “ – there’s been a change of plan. Would you please excuse us?” she didn’t even turn to look at him as she used her telekinesis to “push” him out the door, closing it behind him. Director Fury’s pounding fist and cursing could be heard faintly through the reinforced steel door - it was rather creative. He knew full well there were cameras in the room, of course, and that Rachel could take care of herself, but he would have felt better if she’d just stuck to the plan.

 

Loki stepped forward, long fingers reaching out, and took Rachel’s chin in his hand. He pulled her close, closing the gap between them, and tilted her face gently upward. The gesture was not quite tender, and carried a note of possessiveness, but his touch was familiar, and Rachel closed her eyes. He examined her face, turning her head left and right, noting the dark circles under her eyes, and wan complexion.

 

“You look tired,” he said finally, “Someone keeping you up at night?” his tone was sarcastic.

 

Rachel scoffed at him, “You can’t even imagine,” she said. Loki scowled at her, and squeezed her in his grasp. Rachel slapped at his hand, and he forcibly shoved her back, releasing her. She rubbed at her chin and glowered at him.

 

“Why are you here Rachel?” he spat, regaining his composure. “Do you think me some love-sick pup that the mere sight of you will bring me to my knees, begging you to return with me  to Asgard? _Forgive and Forget_? Do not flatter yourself,” his voice dripped with venom. He wanted to hurt her, like she had hurt him, “You meant nothing to me. It was a _tryst_ , nothing more,” he said,“You were a curiosity, a challenge. There have been a thousand other such _curiosities_ since you.” It was a lie of course, but that was Loki’s stock in trade. He couldn’t help himself.

 

Rachel remained silent through it all – it wasn’t the first time he had said such cruel things to her, for all that it still hurt her.

 

Off in the command center of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier, Tony Stark watched the encounter play out on the video display. “That guy got dumped hard!” he said to no one in particular. Natasha shot him a withering look. She was waiting for Loki to “spill the beans”, for some clue as to what his plan might be - but information was information, and she would take anything she could use.

 

Back in the private interrogation room, Rachel sat down on the sofa, crossed her legs, and began to remove her shoes – they were strappy, four inch stilettos with a killer arch, and like most things in her life, they hurt her terribly - and she loved them for it. “Actually, Loki, I’m here on official business,” she said. “S.H.I.E.L.D was hoping I could pick your brain,” she rubbed first one foot, then the other, as her shoes dropped to the floor.

 

Loki had watched, transfixed, as Rachel peeled off the exquisite shoes, revealing the delicate feet and toes that he had come to know so well during their idyllic time spent together. He longed to rub her feet between his hands, to apply precisely the right amount of pressure to make her giggle in ticklish delight - or squirm in exquisite ecstasy. He bared his teeth instead, and replied, “Oh do try! We both know where that road leads!”

 

Rachel rolled her eyes up at him. “I was hoping we could be civilized about this. Why are you here Loki?” she narrowed her eyes at him, “There’s nothing holding you here,” she looked around the room, “It’s almost as if you want to be here,” she finished, trying to puzzle the mystery out.

 

Loki looked thoughtful and considered Rachel’s question. She knew that look too well – it meant a million possibilities were playing out in his head, and he was looking for precisely the right one. Possibilities. Lies. The words were practically interchangeable to him.

 

She bit her bottom lip in anticipation. “ _C’mon, c’mon…_ ,” she thought. The longer it took him to answer, the more she knew - _knew -_ he was up to no good. Her window of opportunity was closing. What Fury didn’t know was that Rachel couldn’t actually read Loki’s mind - maybe she could catch glimpses here and there - but as he’d just pointed out, she did know where that road lead: madness. Even though he wasn’t technically a telepath, he wasn’t exactly human either. His mindscape was different than hers,which is to say, _not compatible_. He also happened to be much older than her - _much older_ \- and was simply better at guarding his mind than she was. She was relying on their shared past to get what she wanted from him, the love that he once felt for her, that he maybe still felt for her. It was a hard bet - she had left him in secret, letting him, and the world of Asgard, believe her to be dead.

 

Life on Asgard had been good, like a dream, for all that Loki had lied to her - brainwashed her - she couldn’t deny that. His intentions were good, and his heart was in the right place - she would never forget that - but she couldn’t ignore what had drawn him to her in the first place: there was her power signature, for starters - just another way being a mutant had ruined her life. It had drawn all three of them to her, actually - Selene, the witch, and Loki.

 

But something else had drawn Loki, too. He had been drawn to the dark thoughts of murder, so out of place in Rachel’s otherwise bright and innocent mindscape, as surely as a moth is driven to the flame. Rachel had been about to murder the huntress Selene - slowly, intimately, in all the ways she knew Selene feared - to make her pay for all the human lives she had taken, and Loki confessed, when he deigned to talk about that night, he had wanted to watch her do it.

 

And then one day, life stopped being good, as Thor sewed and propagated the seeds of doubt in his brothers mind - and Loki, ever jealous of Thor’s shadow, fell for it: hook, line, and sinker.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, Loki finally spoke.  Rachel let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. He turned to the door, rapped his knuckles against it and said to the guards on the other side, “We’re done here – take me back to my cell,” and glancing back over his shoulder, said, “Good-bye Rachel. I don’t think we’ll be meeting again.” He’d made his decision - and it didn’t involve her. She should have been thankful, it could have been worse - in choosing _not_ to choose her, he had given her an out. She closed her eyes against tears - he was giving her no choice, now. She was going to have to play her “wild card”.

 

She stood up then, “Loki wait!” she pleaded, wringing her hands. At the same time, the door opened, and Director Fury stood just outside, arms folded behind his back. He was about to speak when Rachel frowned, and without any effort, employed her telekinesis to close, and hold, the door.

 

“ _Son of a-_ ” could be heard faintly on the other side.

 

“Just tell me what’s going on, please!” she started again. Loki turned on her then, got right up in her face, and kept moving forward. Caught off guard, Rachel stumbled back until she found herself sitting back on the couch.

 

“Why should I?” he hissed, leaning over her. Rachel’s eyes were wide, and she trembled slightly. This was why she had left, this is how it had all gone wrong... “Do you think I owe you, Rachel?” he asked, his voice growing louder, then, more softly, “You. Left. Without a word, without a trace – no easy task on Asgard -  I searched the Nine Realms for you!” He closed his eyes, and took a steadying breath, “I thought you were dead,” he breathed, with the first real hint of emotion. But then it was gone as quickly as it had come, and he said, “Our bond, the rapport we shared, it was completely severed; I couldn't _feel_ you anymore," he blinked, straightened, and huffed, "I still can't," he said, looking genuinely puzzled. He leaned back in, "We mourned you, all of us - _I_ mourned you, for a year and a day,” he held her eyes in his cold gaze, “You can’t imagine what has transpired since you left…” he said, shaking his head, “...And then you just show up, no explanation, no _apology_ \- nothing. So why should I tell you anything?”

 

Rachel swallowed hard, and tried to slow her beating heart, fit to burst out of her chest. “Because,” she said, staring back at him, “– if you do, I’ll let you see our son.”

  
“Did NOT see that coming!” Tony turned and said to the empty room, the chair Nat had just been sitting in turning a slow circle. 


	3. Simultaneously

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to read! I'm kind of playing with the order, jumping around a little. Hope it's not too confusing.

Simultaneously

Alfey

 

One

Kate “oofed” as she scooped up Rachel’s bundle, wrapped tightly in soft, pale blue blankets. It was heavy for it's size, and Kate was a willowy thing. Rachel had instructed her, and only her, with the charge of her most precious cargo - if things went sideways, she knew it would be safe in Kate’s (intangible) hands. Kate and Paige, along with Phil,Thor, and four S.H.I.E.L.D. guards headed to a nearby private command center.

 

Thor sidled up to Paige and attempted to make small talk with her. As they walked side by side, he caught some of her hair between finger and thumb and said, “‘Husk’ suits you as a name, for truly, your hair is the color and silkiness of corn. On Asgard - “

 

“Ah will hit you again,” Paige cut him off “this time where it hurts. Ah learned a thing or two about Asgardian materials, and have been dyin’ to “husk” into one and try it out,” she said, stopping in her tracks to look him dead in the eye.

 

The corner of his mouth twitched in a crooked smile and he huffed out a small laugh. He let the girls hair slip from between his fingers. “I only meant -”

 

“Ah don’t care what you meant,” Paige took a deep, steadying breath, ran her hand through her hair,  “- don't you git it?! We -”  and she indicated back and forth between her and Kate, who was now shouldering the wrapped bundle, which was squirming in her arms, “-  don’t want anything to do with you, Thor. You ruined everything. She was happy, and you ruined it.”

 

By this time, the squirming bundle of blankets had come unwrapped, revealing a very serious, dark haired little boy with stunningly green eyes. He asked, in a high, reedy voice, “Are you my Uncle Thor?”

 

Two

“C’mon sweetie, we’re not talking to Uncle Thor right now,” Kate said, turning the boy around and  walking toward their assigned command center. She knew the Helicarrier like the back of her hand - hell, she’d wired it for data practically herself - and knew just the room she wanted. The boy looked at Thor over Kate’s shoulder, a gravity in his eyes that belied his small age and size.

 

Thor heard the boys voice fading in the distance as they rounded a corner, “..but I’ve never met another Asgardian before!” he whined.

 

“Incredible. He really does look just like -” Phil started to say, shaking his head in wonder.

 

“Now you know why Ray’s the way she is,” Paige said softly. “She’s had to live with that face for the last two years. How-n-the heck is she supposed to forget about _him_ with that mug lookin’ at her everyday?”

 

“I never knew,” Phil said, by way of explanation, “Kate never said anything - _you_ never said anything.”

 

Paige shrugged - “ _Sorry_ ” it seemed to say - and smiled down at Phil. She made a “V” of her fore and middle fingers, pointed them at her eyes, then pointed them at Thor - “ _I’ve got my eyes on you_ ” the gesture said, before she stalked off down the hall after Kate.

 

“Later, Phil,” she called over her shoulder, waving.

 

Phil patted Thor on the arm, and led him in the opposite direction of the girls and his nephew, catching up with Rachel and Nat. Neither mas was quite sure what to make of the exchange that just took place.

 

“C’mon big guy, let’s get you up to speed,” he said amiably.

 

Three

Kate set out Alfeys crayons, coloring books, his sippy cup, along with a plastic spork and fruit cup, some blank paper, and the  books _SkippyJon Jones_ , Advanced Calculus, and lastly, _Stephen Hawkings A Brief History of Time_. She never knew what Alfey was going to be in the mood to read, but those three were a sure bet. She sighed, sat down heavily and elbows resting on her knees, buried her face in her hands.

 

She was exhausted, both from the nights activities, and in general. She, along with Paige, had helped Rachel with Alfey for the last two years, splitting the responsibilities three ways - Kate herself had been integral to the boys stranger-than-strange birth conditions - and it was hard work, to say the least. Not unlike his father, Alfey was definitely high maintenance, and it took no less than the three of them to manage a single day. She had a bad feeling about this plan, but hadn’t been surprised at Rachel’s decision to bring Alfey. She never questioned Rachel where Alfey was concerned. He was Rachel’s biggest secret - and she had some serious skeletons in her closet - it just wasn’t Kate’s place to tell her what to do. But still, she hoped against hope that Rachel knew what she was doing.

 

“What’s wrong, Auntie Kate?” Alfey looked up from his drawing, his big green eyes missing nothing. “Are you sad? You look blue,” he said, pouting.

 

 _Auntie_ Kate smiled. “Stop lookin’ at my aura, kiddo,” she said, getting up and tousling his hair. “I’m fine, I’m just worried about your mom, is all.” She kicked off her shoes, and knelt down next to him. “Can I color too? Or, do you want to do some calculus?” she asked, reaching for the book.

 

“You’re worried about mummy because she’s talking with daddy,” it wasn’t a question. He passed her a sheet of paper and the blue crayon, shook his head “no” at the calculus book, and then resumed his coloring. He was using the black crayon, and coloring so hard Kate wondered he hadn’t ripped the paper yet.

 

Kate shuddered and tried to get the thought of calling Loki “daddy” out of her mind. “ _Blahgh_!” she thought. “That’s right,” she said, picking up the crayon and drawing some hearts on her paper. “You know we haven’t seen your,” - she made a face like she was gagging - “ _daddy_ since you were born. Your mom’s been trying to figure out how to tell him about you for the last two years. She’s just a little nervous.”

 

He nodded solemnly. “Mummy is scared of daddy... And he makes her sad,” he said. Still holding his crayon, he wriggled himself around and laid his head down in Kate’s lap. He sucked his thumb and kicked his little feet idly.

 

Kate ran her fingers through his hair and sighed.  He was so perceptive, it was creepy. He wasn’t just perceptive, he was precocious. In a word, he was,  Lokison - too smart, too strong, and generally too much - and they shouldn’t have expected anything less. At two years old, he was at least as cognizant to the thoughts of others as his mother was, and nearly as intelligent as Kate. That Kate happened to be a genius made it particularly scary. She didn’t doubt he would catch up to, and surpass her, before long. He was also incredibly strong, and thick-skinned, owing to the unique tissue density all Asgardians seem to possess - which meant he was only going to get stronger, and more durable, as he got older.

 

No, Kate didn’t agree with Rachel’s plan, but she knew why she’d put it into motion: she couldn’t raise Alfey on her own. He needed to be among people who would know what to do with him. He needed to be among people that could withstand his growing strength and talent. He needed to be with his own people, and as much as it pained Rachel to think about it, she wasn’t Alfey’s kind.

 

Four

Just then, the door opened, and Phil came in, bearing a tray laden with fruits, pastries, bagels, cream cheese packets, and thankfully, _coffee_. That it probably came from a vending machine mattered little - Kate was starving, and still kind of hung over.

 

Kate got up first and tickled the boy until he fell down laughing with delight, then grabbed a banana off the tray and offered it to him. She grabbed a black coffee for herself and mouthed the words, “I love you”.

 

“I love you too,” Phil said as he slathered cream cheese on a bagel that was inches away from being stale.

 

“I was talking to the coffee,” Kate teased, and she bumped her hip against his.

 

“So!” Phil said, brushing the crumbs from his hands, “This is Alfey! Rachel’s son! ...Rachel...and _Loki’s_ son…? How is that even…?” he began, looking from Kate to the boy, and back again.

 

At the mention of his name, Alfey looked up, banana smeared on his face. He locked eyes with Phil and looked thoughtful for a moment. ”You're Auntie Kate's _Boss_ , aren't you, Agent Coulson?” he asked, looking from Phil to Kate. Inexplicably, the boy had an Asgardian accent - that is, what sounded like an Earthly British accent.

 

“Actually,” Phil started, turning to Kate, “I’m Kitty’s _boy_ -” but she furrowed her brow at him and shook her head imperceptibly. They knew each other well enough that Phil picked up on her body language, and quickly changed direction,  “- _oss_! Ok. Yes. Yes!” he laughed nervously, “I’m her _Boss_. Who sometimes takes her out for fancy dinners. You know, for S.H.I.E.L.D. business!” he said, gesturing frantically.

 

Alfey was quiet for a moment, then resumed coloring his picture and said, “Her name is _Kate_ \- she’s not a child, you know." Phil’s jaw dropped, and Kate pursed her lips. Eye’s closed, she tried desperately not to laugh.

 

“Y'know, I think I’m just gonna -” Phil started, feeling flustered and turning this way and that.

 

“I think you should -” Kate said at the same time, nodding.

 

“I’m just gonna go - I’m gonna go” Phil said, and nearly plowed over Paige, who happened to be coming through the door at the same time, a uniform draped over one arm.

 

“There _is_ a god,” she said, eyeing the tray of food hungrily. She tossed the uniform to Kate, and helped herself to Phil’s bagel. “Hey snot nose,” she said to Alfey. Paige had eight younger siblings, and happened to be quite good with kids. “I see you met Auntie Kate’s _Boss_ ,” she snickered, winking at Phil.

 

“Am I missing something?” Phil asked when Kate ushered him toward the door.

 

Kate cleared her throat and said all in a rush, “Yeah, Alfey thinks he’s going to marry me when he gets bigger."

 

Phil laughed and said, “He’s joking, right?” As Kate pushed him toward the door, he said to Paige, “He _is_ joking, right?” looking desperately from one girl to the other.

 

“Agent Coulson,” came Alfeys reedy little voice, “I drew a picture for you!” He toddled over and handed the drawing he’d been making with the black crayon to Phil.

 

“Aww, that’s very nice of you, Alfey,” Kate admonished.

 

No mere two-year-olds rudimentary drawing, it depicted an accurate account of Agent Coulson laying on the ground, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, and “X”’s for eyes. Kate and Phil stared at the drawing, mouths agape.

  
Phil brought it closer to his face for inspection and asked, “Is...is that supposed to be blood? Why is there blood?” he asked, as Kate pushed him out the door and closed it behind him.


End file.
